


Public Indecency

by Powerfulweak



Series: Crimes and Misdemeanors Verse [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Job, Bottom!Cas, But when is he not?, Criminal!Dean, M/M, Public Sex, Switches, Train Sex, Zachariah Being a Dick, a bit of angst, cop!cas, top!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-04-30
Packaged: 2018-01-21 08:11:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1543796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Powerfulweak/pseuds/Powerfulweak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas returns from suspension and finds himself facing an even bigger problem when Dean ends up arrested again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I would once again like to apologize for the delay. I'm not a fast writer. Think of me as a crock pot, not a microwave.  
> I really appreciate all of your input and kudos. It keeps me going and the creative juices flowing.

Castiel sighed as he scanned the squad room. It felt good being back in the station. It had been a long two months.

The morning following his night with Dean had been awkward. Cas had attempted to escape without Dean noticing but instead ran face-first into a lanky, shaggy-haired teenager who Cas assumed was the brother. The kid had given Cas a confused, sleepy glare and mumbled a “hi”.  Cas gaped, trying to decide whether or not he should apologize for the graphic noise only a few hours prior or pretend it never happened. Dean came up from behind, gesturing between the two of them and muttering “Cas, Sam. Sam, Cas.”

What followed had to be the most uncomfortable meal of Cas’ life. He absently chewed his Cheerios as he and Dean kept exchanging looks with Sam that said _“Let’s pretend you didn’t hear us having rough, loud sex last night.”_ Dean had sweetly kissed him goodbye, offering to call soon. Cas walked in a daze toward his squad car down the block, before he found himself giggling uncontrollably at the insanity that was earlier that morning.

Coming back to work was a sober return to the real world. The investigation regarding Cas’ loss of a suspect was going to a review board. His lieutenant, Chuck, quietly broke the news to him while offering hopeful words that everything would work out. His  encouragement soon evaporated, though, when Cas heard Adler was going to be on the board.

Cas had gone through the Academy with Zachariah Adler, a sallow-eyed, prematurely-balding sycophant who fashioned himself as Dirty Harry. He liked to brag that he was the 4th generation in the force and his grandfather was Chief of Police 40 years ago. He looked good on paper, but there was nothing backing it all up. While Cas had never been a star cadet, Zachariah had barely made it through, passing both the academic and physical requirements by the bare minimum. For some reason completely unknown to Cas, Zachariah _hated_ him. It seemed like every time Cas looked at him, he received a sour sneer in return. Zachariah had tripped him during runs, used full-force during hand-to-hand and non-lethal weapons training, and took every opportunity to snort derisively at any answer Cas gave in their classes.

Somehow after graduation, Zachariah had managed to kiss-ass his way into a promotion, making Sergeant in record time and being recruited early on by the Internal Affairs Bureau. Cas could see why IAB liked Zachariah; he was a sneaky little shit.

And he was on Cas’ review board.

The board had gone quickly, although it would have gone much quicker without Zachariah’s needling. He had questioned Castiel on everything: his motives, his state of mind, practically what he had for breakfast. Zachariah was convinced that something underhanded had happened which had led to Dean’s escape, which Cas thought was fair seeing as something underhanded _had_ happened. Not that anyone knew, thankfully.

Cas had been been given two months suspension without pay and was going to be stuck on desk two months past that, but really it was a slap on the wrist. After the board rendered their decision, Zachariah had cornered Cas in the hallway pressing in on his personal space.

“You think you’re real smart, don’t you? Think you’re going to come out of this squeaky clean, huh?” Adler gave Cas a humorless smile, “I’m going to tell you this once: I am going to find out what you’re up to, I am going to find out who that guy was and I am going to. Fuck. You. Up.” He punctuated each word with a stab of his index finger to Cas’ chest. Cas held back any snide comments or smug looks, and schooled his features into a blank slate.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Cas sighed, “I put it all out there at the board.”

“Bullshit. You never even gave us his name!” Adler spat.

“I never got his name. He had nothing but fake IDs on him,” Cas was glad that he didn’t have to lie about this. He wasn’t sure how his eyes would read with Zachariah boring into them. “I gave you his description, I spoke to a sketch artist…”

“See, that’s how I know this is fucking bullshit,” Adler replied with a maniacal grin, pointing a finger at Cas, “That sketch doesn’t even look like a human being. It looks like the Green Goblin.” This was true. Cas had been careful to alter his description of Dean’s features and the resulting sketch somehow ended up looking like Willem Dafoe.

“That’s what he looked like, I’m sorry.” Cas pushed past Adler, “Now excuse me, but I have had a shit day, thanks to you, and I need to get out of here.” He could feel Adler’s eyes burning into the back of his head, but not another word was spoken between them.

The two month suspension wasn’t as bad as Cas thought it would be. He deep cleaned his apartment, went on a few long runs with Balthazar, binge-watched Netflix and generally kept his nose clean. He only heard from Dean twice during that time: once when he received a text talking about something called “LARPing” quickly followed by a 'Sorry, wrong person', then another text a few weeks later inviting Cas to see his friend’s band at a bar in Lakeside. That night had begun with Cas being introduced to Dean’s friend Garth, who apparently was the drummer, and had ended with him and Dean 69ing in the back of Dean’s big, black boat of a car because neither had thought to bring a condom with them.

Afterwards, they had cuddled up against each other, in spite of the heat of the evening or the sticky layer of come and sweat between them, and just talked about nothing with Cas getting a little giddy every time Dean laughed at one of his jokes. It seemed so strange that Dean could exhibit so much swagger when he was trying to seduce, but would immediately be reduced to such a raw state of self, post-orgasm. It was at those times that he felt he was seeing the real Dean.

Since that night though, it had been radio-silence on Dean’s part.

Just as Cas checks the clock for the 20th time (only two more hours left), Balthazar walks through the door.

“Cassie,” Bal crosses the short distance, planting his ass on the corner of his desk, “How are things?”

“Serving my punishment in style,” Cas deadpans. Bal claps him on the shoulder and gives him a wan smile. He looks like he is about to say something, when a when a voice calls out over his shoulder.

“Novak,” Cas turns to see Lt. Shurley beckoning him over. Cas stands, giving Balthazar a confused look.

“We need your assistance in booking.” Chuck continues as Cas follows him down the hall “The rookie is kind of overwhelmed.” They walk through a maze of corridors until they arrive at booking. Before they even reach the door, a cacophony of voices can be heard rising from the room. As they enter, Cas notices a harried-looking officer trying to ignore the shouting of random criminals as he fingerprints a man. Long rows of metal benches are bolted to the floor, a metal railing running just above them with about a dozen men and women secured to it. The room is even less distinguishable than the squad room: beige paint, beige chairs, beige floor. Cas suspects that someone thinks neutral colors will make criminals less violent or ill-tempered, but it seems to be having the opposite effect the current crop. Chuck places two fingers in his mouth and whistles loudly, gaining everyone’s attention and momentarily bringing the noise level down.

“Samandriel,” Chuck barks, “This is Officer Novak. He’s here to help. Just tell him what you need.” Cas feels Chuck clap him on the shoulder but doesn’t turn to watch him leave. Cas weaves through the crowd toward the counter. He jumps over the swing door faces the young officer.

“Hey there,” The kid is cheerful but visibly stressed. He jerks his head toward the camera and wall where they take the mug shots. “If you want to take care of the pictures, I can handle the printing.” Cas nods as Samandriel hands him the next suspect’s ID.

“Thanks, uh… Samandriel, was it?” Cas asks. The rookie smiles and nods before turning his attention back to the suspect. Cas goes about uncuffing the first suspect, a man who clearly drank a liquor store, and hauls him toward the back wall.

“Turn to the left,” Cas instructs, after semi-successfully propping him up. The man stares at Cas with glassy eyes for a few seconds before shifting to the left. He clicks the camera and directs the man to face forward, snapping his fingers a couple times to grab his attention. As he hands off the drunk to Samandriel for printing, Cas takes a brief glance around the room, hoping that the others are more cognizant than this one. Cas quickly approaches the next suspect and unlocks his restraints.

After photographing three prisoners, Cas suddenly remembers how much booking sucks. He had worked it for a couple weeks when he had first graduated from the academy and the memories of how time dragged still haunt him. It’s painfully repetitive and forces you to be up close and personal with drunks, stoners, and just all around assholes.

“How long ago did you graduate, Samandriel,” Cas asks wryly, knowing that only someone fresh would be this upbeat while stationed down here.

“From the Academy?” Samandriel replies, focusing his attention onto thumbprinting a prisoner, “About 2 months ago. Why?” Cas just shakes his head and laughs  as he lays a hand on his next suspect’s shoulder.

“Cas?” That voice. Cas looks down with wide-eyed horror. Right in front of him, hands strapped to the metal railing at the small of his back with bruises quickly forming under his left eye and up his cheek bone, sits Dean.

Shit.

In any other circumstance he wouldn’t mind seeing Dean, but he is in a precarious situation here. He’s still in the early part of his career and he’s already got a hit against him. The only reason his reprimand was as light as it was was due to the fact that Chuck vouched for him, saying he’s a good cop with a bright future. If anyone were to suspect anything improper, he’s looking at an even deeper scrutiny and more harassment by Adler. Cas quickly adjusts his expression, setting his jaw in a hard line.

“C’mon.” He says as he removes Dean from the bench. Dean goes willingly, his body lax and loose.

“How you doing, Cas?” Dean has that trademark flirtatious smile as Cas backs him up against the wall.

“Turn you your left.” he mutters. Dean’s  face falls but his eyes don’t leave Cas.

“What’s the matter? Not talking to me?” Dean inquires. Cas snaps the picture and directs Dean to face front. “Want me to do ‘Blue Steel’?” Dean pouts out his lips and squints his eyes toward the camera. The corner of Cas’ mouth just barely quirks up when there is a cough behind him. He turns to see Samandriel walking a surly looking biker at least 6 inches taller than himself in cuffs.

“Tiny here says he needs the bathroom. You got this for a little while?” Cas nods and watches Samandriel guide the man out the doorway. Cas turns back to Dean, grasping his shoulder and maneuvering him toward the fingerprinting area.

“Got me in cuffs again, huh Cas?” Dean says softly as he undoes the restraints. As soon as he is free, Dean covers the back of Castiel’s hand with his, fingers loosely intertwining. Cas quickly shakes his hand free and grabs grabs hold of Dean’s wrist to start the printing.

“Sorry I haven’t called recently. Guess that makes me kind of an asshole huh,” There’s a playfulness to Dean’s voice and it makes Cas want to reach out and draw Dean’s lips to his own. He takes hold of Dean’s thumb and rolls it over the ink pad.

“Forgive me, right?” Dean asks petulantly; Cas doesn’t respond. He focuses on his work as Dean huffs angrily. “Are you going to keep giving me the silent treatment?”

“I’m just trying to do my job,” Cas says as he rolls Dean’s thumb over the card.

“So you can’t say hi?” Cas lifts his head and looks at him. Even with a rainbow of bruises covering the left side of his face, Dean is still handsome. Maybe even more so.

“Hello Dean.” He quickly returns to his work, pressing each finger onto the card. Dean’s hands are rough and strong, and he can’t help himself from being a little more delicate than usual. As he presses down the three middle fingers onto the card, Dean’s other hand once again comes to rest on top of his own. He jerks his head, Dean’s face just inches from his own.

“What are you doing, Dean?” Cas’ voice is barely above a whisper.

“Nothing,” Dean says with mock-innocence. Castiel begins printing his other hand. He can feel Dean’s eyes boring into him. “Can you do anything to get me out of this?”

“Nothing I can do,” Cas mutters, focusing on inking Dean’s index finger. Dean huffs indignantly.

“C’mon, man,” he whines softly. Cas doesn’t respond, still pressing Dean’s hand down onto the card. Dean snorts derisively. “I thought fucking a cop had better benefits.”

Cas’ head shoots up instantly and he drops Dean’s hand. A sharp stab of anger and dejection blooms inside his chest. He looks Dean dead in the eye, his face momentarily broken in pain before shifting itself back to a blank slate.

“So that’s how it is,” Cas says coolly. He grabs Dean’s hand forcefully, and continues to print him.

“Oh c’mon, Cas, I didn’t mean it like that,” Dean gripes, “Cas!” Cas isn’t listening. As he’s re-cuffing him, Samandriel returns and hooks Tiny back into the restraints, followed by a second officer, a detective by the look of him.

“Winchester, Dean” the Detective barks.

“Yo,” Dean says. The detective crosses the room toward Dean and yanks him by the shoulder.

“This way,” he orders as he drags Dean out of the room. Dean’s gaze never leave Cas’. There is a mixture of frustration and remorse in his eyes. Cas exhales sharply and rubs the bridge of his nose.

“Hey Samandriel, do you mind if I grab a smoke?” he asks.

“Sure thing,” the younger cops responds as he grabs a bored-looking woman. Cas walks out the door and down the hall. He doesn’t smoke, but right now he needs fresh air and a clear head. He shoves the back door open and steps out onto the deck. He wraps his hands around the metal railing surrounding the platform and lets his head drop forward. It’s a warm fall night, but a cold chill runs over his skin. A potent mixture of mortification, anger, and rejection roils in his gut. He wants to kick himself for being stupid enough to get involved with someone like Dean Winchester _(Winchester?… like that doesn’t sound like another alias)_. It was clear from the start what Dean wanted, and it was Cas who had believed it could’ve been something deeper. He had put his whole goddamn career on the line for one fucking blow job. He had never been so embarrassed in his life. Why did he let himself get so caught up in a meaningless fuck?

He clenches his jaw in an effort not to scream. He should have listened to Balthazar. He should’ve listened to the reasonable side of his brain. He should’ve listened to anyone besides his dick. He takes a couple more deep breaths before turning back into the building. Cas is so distracted he doesn't notice Zachariah Adler coming his way until he barrels into him.

“Watch where you’re going, Novak!” Zachariah blusters.

“Sorry,” Cas says absently, before looking up at Adler, brows furrowed. “What are you doing down here?” Zachariah’s presence was usually a harbinger of doom. Whatever his reasons for being here, they surely weren’t good.

“Oh, just following up on a few open investigations. And, of course, I have to check up on our problem children.” he glares pointedly as Cas, “Say, you wouldn’t happen to know a Dean Winchester, would you?” Cas swears his heart stops for a moment before it instantly starts beating faster but his face remains placid.

“There was a guy in booking with that name a little while ago,” Cas says non-committedly. Zachariah hums and gives him a tight smile.

“No, I mean are you actually familiar with him? Have you ever met him outside of this evening?” Castiel can’t tell why, but something about Adler’s questioning, his smugness, causes a swell of nausea to rise in his gut.

“Can’t say I have, no” Cas answers, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible. They hold each other's gaze for a moment. Adler is nearly unreadable as he hums and gives Cas a diplomatic smile.

“Hmmm, alright then,” Adler says. He starts to walk in the opposite direction when he stops and turns back toward Cas.

“Funny thing, though,” Adler reaches into his inside coat pocket and extracts something, “He had this in his wallet.” In his hand, Zachariah holds Castiel’s business card.

Cas feels the bottom drop out of his stomach. He is frozen where he stands. Zachariah looks triumphant at his find.

“Winchester wouldn’t happen to be your little escapee, would he?” He leans in close to Cas’ ear and whispers harshly, “I have your ass now, Novak.” Zachariah pulls himself up to his full height, towering over Castiel although there is only a mere inch difference between them. He gives Cas a final smirk before turning and walking off leaving Castiel alone. Cas watches him turn the corner before he stumbles back hitting the wall behind him. He scrubs a hand over his face, his mind running a mile a minute. He walks quickly over to the nearest garbage can, vomiting up dinner. Cas leans over the mess, his head resting on his palm. His day just went from bad to worse.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to commenter AKM for the prompt for this chapter

Cas returns to the booking room in a daze, barely cognizant of anything being said to him until Samandriel grabs him by the shoulder and shakes him roughly.

“I’m sorry,” Cas mumbles, “What did you say?”

“I asked if you were ok, man. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Samandriel says. Cas shakes his head.

“I just don’t feel very well right now.” Cas replies, trying to muster up the closest thing to a smile he can manage. Samandriel gives him a doubtful frown, like he doesn’t really believe Cas.

“You should see if Lt. Shurley will let you get out of here,” He says, “My relief will be here in 30 and I think I can handle this until then.” The room is quiet. There are a few suspects waiting to be collected, but for the most part, the overnight rush has passed. Cas nods and heads for the door, mumbling a ‘thanks’ to Samandriel on his way out.

This may be his last time walking through these halls, Cas thinks. He tries to muster up some sort of sentimentality toward this place as he shuffles down toward the main squad room, but it escapes him. His whole body feels numb, but there is a vague feeling just beneath the surface. He wants to say it’s fear, but his mind passed over fear  awhile ago. He feels shell-shocked.

He enters the squad room, eyes searching for Chuck. As soon his lieutenant sees him, his expression changes to one of concern. He walks up to Chuck and quietly says something about “coming down with something”. His lieutenant lightly pats him on the arms and tells him to go.

“Don’t spread that shit around here,” Chuck orders. Cas nods and turns, heading toward the exit. As he passes by Balthazar, the blonde’s hand shoots out, grabbing his wrist.

“Cassie, what’s going on? You look awful?” If Cas was in better spirits, he would be more appreciative of his friends concern, but now he jerks his arm out of Balthazar’s hold.

“Not feeling good. I’m heading home.” Cas doesn’t meet his gaze. Balthazar leans back, eyeing him warily, when a shout from the hallway distracts him.

“Jesus Christ, haven’t you guys ever heard of ‘excessive force!’” Dean comes into view, stomping past the window of the squad room and down the hall. “Going to fuckin’ bruise!” He rubs his wrists as he heads out the door. Cas wants to feel a swell of anger toward Dean right now, but he can’t bring himself to it. The memory of the night he spent with Dean curled into his arms invades his thoughts, his expression softening in response. His eyes never leave Dean as the man exits the building and, with it, Castiel’s life. It’s a look Balthazar doesn’t miss.

“Castiel, what are you… Who is that person?” Balthazar says with piqued curiosity, “Is that him? Is that the one who..?” 

“I gotta go.” Cas cuts him off, making his way toward the locker room. Balthazar calls after him but doesn’t follow, much to Cas’ relief. The locker room is crowded, but thankfully the showers are empty and right now that is what Cas needs.

He lets the hot spray pour over him, coursing down over the planes of his body. His mind begins to clear from the daze he was in as the reality of the situation makes itself plain.

His career is dead in the water. He’ll be lucky to be working as a traffic cop if he doesn’t get charged with obstruction. The thought of this hits him like a punch in the gut. Since he was 16, all he wanted to do was be a cop. His whole life was spent keeping his nose clean, staying away from all the normal vices that kids his age got involved in. He had read manual after manual, absorbing laws and violations, hoping that it would be enough.

And it wasn’t. In the end, as it always was, it was human error that fucked everything up. His error, he had to at least take responsibility there. This was all his fucking fault; everything that had happened had started with him. Maybe it would be alright? Maybe if he just fessed up and talked to his union rep, showed some remorse, said that he was a sex addict, he could at least get out of this without jail time. Cas leaned his head back, letting the water run over his face and back and snorted at the the thought. No, he had Zachariah on his ass. He was well and truly fucked.

By the time he exits the showers, the locker room is mostly empty. Cas hurriedly pulls on his jeans and a t-shirt, shoving his uniform haphazardly into a backpack. He pulls on his canvas jacket and pushes his way out of the locker room. He hopes he can avoid Balthazar and any further questions as he heads out of the building, exiting into the pleasant coolness of the night.

“Cas,” there is a hiss behind him, “Hey, Cas.” Cas turns to see Dean, shoulders slumped, hands stuffed in his pockets. The bruises from earlier have darkened, looking more tender and painful. Cas wants to reach out and lightly touch them, but his anger with Dean rears itself once again.

“What do you want, Dean?” his voice sounds far more tired than irritated as he had hoped.

“I’m sorry,” Dean says quietly after a beat. He takes a step toward Cas and looks him in the eye. His face is contrite, the usual playful smirk absent.

“Good,” Cas snaps. He turns and continues walking down the street, hoping to escape Dean before his resolve crumbles.

“Cas, Hey!” There is a patter of footsteps as Dean jogs after him, “C’mon. I said I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any of what I said.”

“Yes, you did!” Cas barks without turning around.

“No, I didn’t,” Dean huffs, reaching out and grabbing Cas’ hand by the wrist. Cas jolts to a stop and wheels around to face Dean, nostrils flaring.

“I really am sorry.” Dean insists, “ I was an asshole, ok?” He looks down, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. Cas pulls his arm out of Dean’s grip. He wants to be angry with Dean, _stay_ angry with him, but right now all he can think about is Dean laid out on the bed, squirming through his release. He just needs to see that one more time.

“That was a really shitty thing you said,” Cas states finally.

“Yeah, and I feel really shitty because if it,” Dean counters, stepping close and lightly taking Cas’ hand in his. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” He gazes up at Cas with twinkling eyes and that coy little smirk, and suddenly it’s like all the breath has been zapped from Cas’ body. His eyes are concentrated on Dean and he threads their hands together.

“You have your car with you?” Cas finally asks. Dean shakes his head.“C’mon,” he says, pulling Dean down the street.

“Whoa, where are we going? It’s like three in the morning.”

“To the train.”

“Where’s your car?” Dean asks, searching around.

“They took it away from me when I got suspended. I’m on a desk for awhile.” Cas answers, not looking at Dean.

“You got suspended? Why?” Dean demands. Cas stops and turns, looking straight at him. “Because of me?” Dean points to himself. Cas just gives him a curt smile and nod.

“Oh,” Dean says sheepishly, “Well, I’m sorry about that too, then.”

“You’re not,” Cas says as he continues to pull Dean by the hand, “But you’re still going to make it up to me.” He throws a wink over his shoulder, causing Dean to huff a surprised laugh.

They walk a few blocks, Dean’s hand tightly clasped in Cas’, not saying a word. Cas pulls him up the stairs to an “L” station, He feeds his card into the turnstile and passes it to Dean to do the same. They wait on the platform, listening for the train to arrive.

“So tell me something,” Cas says, breaking the silence, “How were you able to post bail so fast?” He tilts his head and looks at Dean.

“Didn’t need to,” Dean says, “I didn’t do anything wrong,” Cas opens his mouth as if to contradict him, when Dean continues.

“I got caught in the middle of a fight outside a club. Didn’t start it, wasn’t a part of it, but one the assholes who was tried to take a swing at a friend of mine and…I had to defend her, right?” Dean shrugs absently.

“How noble,” Cas says with mock awe.

“Cops arrested nearly everyone there.” Dean continues, rubbing his wrists absently, “Those guys have no idea how to put on cuffs, though.” The train pulls up in front of them. They walk onto the nearly empty car, standing toward the back.

“So how’d you get released?” Cas asks.

“The owner ID’d the guys who were really involved.” Dean smiled at this, “Ellen’s cool. She knows me, vouched for me and shit.” Cas just nods, not saying anything. At the second stop, Cas once again pulls Dean off the train, onto the platform and down the stairs. They descend into the subway and make their way to the next platform where the train is waiting. The car is completely empty, just like Cas knew it would be.

“Are we going back to your place,” Dean seems confused. Cas smiles and closes in on him, pressing their lips together softly.

“We’re taking the long way,” Cas’ voice is low. He once again captures Dean’s lips in a hungry kiss. Dean responds fervently, hands coming up and sliding around Cas’ waist. Cas presses Dean back until he hits the walls with a thud.

“Sorry” he mumbles, barely breaking away from the kiss. He plants his hands on either side of Dean’s head, closing him in, as he begins to mouth down Dean’s jaw. Dean cranes his neck, allowing more room for Cas. His hands tighten over the dark-haired man’s waist and he tries to push him away.

“Cas,” he whimpers, “We can’t do this here. There are cameras.”

“No, there aren’t,” Cas replies, right before sucking a mark onto the soft flesh of Dean’s neck.

“There aren’t?” Dean says.

“Nope,” Cas says, lifting his head and looking at Dean, “Believe me, I know exactly which lines have cameras and which don’t” Cas licks his lips, Dean’s eyes following the movement of his tongue. “And we are going to take full advantage of that, Dean.” Cas’ fingers are already unbuttoning Dean’s jeans when he suddenly grabs Cas’ wrists.

“Cas, we can’t… we can’t do that here.” Dean stutters. Cas presses his thigh in between Dean’s legs, feeling the hardening length beneath the fabric of his jeans. He rubs into it, causing Dean to gasp softly.

“I think we can.” Cas mumbles into Dean’s ear before lightly grasping the lobe between his teeth, “And you said that you’d ‘make it up to me.’” Cas kisses around Dean’s jaw, enjoying to sweet sighs and whimpers he receives in response. He latches onto the soft skin of Dean’s pulse point, sucking lightly. Dean’s whimpers Cas’ name and his hands loosen, freeing Cas’ wrists.

He continues to undo Dean’s pants. He tugs them down just enough, Dean’s cock bouncing lightly as it is freed. Dean inhales sharply as Cas wraps his fist around his cock. Cas presses his forehead against Dean’s, letting his rhythm builds over Dean’s member. Dean’s head falls back against the window of the train. He’s tense, fearful, Cas can tell.

“Relax, Dean,” He reassures, a hand coming up and sliding through the back of Dean’s hair, “Trust me?” Dean gives a quick nod  in response. Cas pulls his head forward, kissing him hard. The vibration of a moan travels from Dean’s mouth into his own. Cas pulls back and lowers himself into the empty seat immediately to his right. He maneuvers Dean until he is facing him, the younger man abruptly opening his eyes and watching Cas.

“What’cha doing there?” Dean whispers. Cas just stares up at him with large, blue eyes and as he begins tentatively mouthing Dean’s cock. Dean curses above him and there are warm hands immediately running through Cas’ hair. Cas wraps his lips over the head, his tongue lapping circles over the slit. Dean moans softly in response. Cas hollows his cheeks, sucking Dean down and slowly working him as far down his throat and his gag reflex will allow. He pulls up, tongue wrapping around the smooth skin of Dean’s cock before swooping back down. The deeper he goes, the harder Dean grips onto his scalp, until he needs to pull off or else choke. Dean is whimpering above him, mumbling encouraging words. Cas runs the head of Dean’s cock over the roof of his mouth, causing a guttural noise to be released from the other man. He looks up at Dean, taking pride in the evident ecstasy on his face. His chest rises and falls steadily as his fingers pet affectionately through the thick of Cas’ hair.

He pulls off with a ‘pop’. Dean is immediately shaken from his pleasure as Cas stands and takes his mouth once more in a hungry kiss.

“Why’d you stop?” Dean asks when Cas draws back. He just smiles as he runs his hands over the side of Dean’s hips and over the globes of Dean’s ass, giving them a playful squeeze. He moves his hands further, teasing the crease of Dean’s ass and causing a shiver to visibly run through him.

“I want to fuck you,” Cas finally whispers, mouth hovering over Dean’s, “Right here.” Dean gapes, eyes wide. Cas can see the indecision bubbling right beneath the surface.

“Cas, we… Can’t we wait until we get to your place,” Dean says as Cas’ lips once again attach themselves to the flesh of his neck. His eyes dart around the dark and empty car.

“I thought you liked a bit of exhibitionism?” Cas whispers into Dean’s skin. Dean tenses beneath him, but his hands move under Cas’ shirt over the skin of Cas’ back.

“This is even a little public for me Cas,” Dean admits. Cas lifts his head and considers Dean, his mouth quirking at the corner.

“What if I let you fuck me?” Cas says quietly. Dean’s hands go still. Cas lets a small smile spread across his face. He had thought about this a couple weeks ago, what it would be like to have Dean fuck him, just like he had promised. Dean doesn’t say anything, but his nostrils flare in response and his brows pull together tightly. Cas leans forward and lets his lips lightly brush over Dean, his tongue darting out over the edge of Dean’s upper lip.

Instantly, Dean’s responds with a frantic kiss. He pulls Cas in close, his erection pressing hard between their stomachs. Cas moans softly causing Dean to inhale sharply and grip him tighter. His hands move quickly to the fly of Cas’ jeans, fiddling with the buttons.

“You serious?” Dean finally says when they pull apart. Cas nods lazily as Dean’s hands slide down the back of his pants and over his ass. Dean noses a the column of Cas’ neck, murmuring something intelligible. Cas wants to ask him what he’s saying, until he feels teeth sink into the soft flesh at the joint of his neck and his mind is instantly clear.

Dean suddenly removes his hands from Cas’ backside and pulls back, searching through his coat pockets, pulling a condom and a small bottle of lube out. Cas lifts a curious eyebrow, to which Dean shrugs.

“After last time, I thought it better to always be prepared, y’know,” Dean looks slightly flustered, but Cas just smiles and kisses Dean sweetly.

“How do you want me, Dean?” Cas’ voice is a low growl. Dean hooks his thumbs into the back of Cas’ pants and slides them down just enough. He leans in close.

“Turn around,” he whispers into Cas’ ear. Cas does as he’s told. turning and facing the window. The train is out of the underground tunnels and and back on the elevated tracks. The city flashes by in a haze of scattered lights. Dean presses kisses down his neck as he smooths a hand over Cas’ ass. There is a ‘click’ of the lube bottle and moments later Cas feels a cool, slick finger at his entrance.

He hisses as Dean breeches him, his thick finger sliding in slowly. Dean presses a reassuring kiss just below Cas’ ear. His hand slides back before moving his finger into Cas again, deeper this time. His pace is steady but there is a nervousness to Dean’s movements, like he’s still unsure whether they will be caught or not. They very well could be and the thought of that sends a jolt of arousal through Cas’s groin. he lets his head drop back, pressing his temple against Dean’s.

Dean slides in a second digit, eliciting a breathy gasp from Cas. He crooks his fingers with each intrusion. When he brushes against Cas’ prostate, his entire body jerks and a broken moan rises from deep within him.

“Dean,” Cas breathes, as a third finger is added. Dean nuzzles along the line of Cas’ jaw.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean murmurs, scissoring and stretching Cas open. He presses back onto Dean’s fingers, eager for more, his own cock still somewhat restrained within the fabric of his jeans.

“Please,” Cas begs as Dean nibbles over the nape of his neck, “Fuck me.” Dean nods and removes his fingers; Cas whines in response. There is the tell-tale click of the lube bottle and the crackle of the condom wrapper. The window in front of them is fogged save for the prints of Cas’ hands against the glass. He lazily draws a smiley face onto the pane before smearing it away with his palm.

All at once, he feels the blunt head of Dean’s cock against him. He groans as Dean presses into him, slowly and perhaps a little hesitant. Cas pushes back against Dean’s hips, hoping to encourage his movements.

“Give me a second, Cas,” Dean huffs with a breathy laugh, “You feel so...Fuck, so good.” Dean plants a wet kiss on the side of Cas’ neck, sucking a mark hard into the skin. Dean hands clench hard on Cas’ hips as he begins to rock into him.

“Fuck yeah,” is all Dean can say and he picks up speed, thrusting into him. Cas’ hand flies behind him, flailing to grab onto Dean, any part of Dean, before gripping onto Dean’s forearm. A harsh moan is forced from him with every slam into his body. A hand moves off of Cas’ hip and up around his naval, pulling him in tighter into Dean.

“That’s it, Dean. Fuck me hard.” Cas gasps. Dean’s hand runs through Cas hair, grabbing a handful and pulling his head back.

“You don’t get to be in charge,” Dean grits through his teeth, “Not today.” Dean slams into Cas, causing the other man to release a guttural cry.

Cas knows he should be worried about them being caught. They won’t have long until the the early stream of commuters descends on the train. Yet, Cas is far beyond caring as Dean’s rough hand reaches down and grasps his throbbing cock. It only takes Dean a handful of strokes over his member until Cas is spilling out and over his fist. Cas feels Dean frantically driving into him before seizing and tensing behind him, nails digging into Cas’ stomach.

Both men are out of breath, but they have no time to enjoy the afterglow. Dean pulls out quickly, pulling up his jeans  and tucking himself back inside, not even bothering to take the condom off. Cas redoes his pants and collapses on shaky legs into one of the seat. Dean falls into the seat next to him. Cas lazily watches him wipe his come-covered hand into the underside of his shirt. Dean looks up, catching Cas’ eye, with a slow smile. A laugh bubbles up through Dean’s chest, and Cas can’t help responding with his own hoarse chuckle. The two men cackle manically until they find their lips and tongues twisted together in a passionate kiss. Cas’s hands slide through Dean’s hair, fingernails scratching lightly at his scalp. Dean’s arms slide beneath Cas’ jacket and pull him tight into the embrace.

Neither Dean or Cas know how long they stay like that, mouths locked together, garnering dirty looks from the passengers slowly filling into the car. Dean pulls away from the kiss, mouth open as if he is about to speak. He seems to hesitate at the words.

“What?” Cas asks quietly, brushing gentle fingers over the bruise across Dean’s cheekbone. Dean shakes his head.

“Nothing,” he mumbles, and dives back into the kiss as the light of the morning drifts into the train car.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also on [tumblr](http://powerfulweak.tumblr.com/) _(because of course I am)_


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